


Dress to Impress

by writefasttalkevenfaster



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 18:31:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17688650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writefasttalkevenfaster/pseuds/writefasttalkevenfaster
Summary: Imagine seeing Barba on a list of New York's most Eligible Bachelors.Prompt: “With his designer duds and snappy one liners, you’ll want to do time with this sexy ADA.”





	Dress to Impress

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this was written around the time that there was a “Barbathon” or a Law and Order: SVU marathon of Barba episodes. I literally died (of laughter) when I saw the commercial, and I thought it was freaking adorable, so I had to write a fic about it somehow. For those who are curious here is the commercial in question: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXsf45tJZs0. One line is taken from the commercial (which is in italics) and I claim no ownership over that or the show/characters. I just wanted to have some fun with this amazing commercial. Enjoy!

Your sister had come to visit briefly at 8:00 AM in the god forsaken morning, (much to your displeasure), dropping off a care package for the first time since you moved to New York. You told her you were fine, mostly because she was coming at 8:00 AM, but she wouldn’t have it. She helped tidy your always somewhat messy apartment, and chuckled as she handed you a magazine. “What’s this?” She had just shrugged on her coat, buttoning it up, before biting back a smile.

“Well, I figure since you’re living here alone you might be a little bored, so I hope that helps.” Before you could say another word, she gave you a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and had left. You sat, sighing, collapsing on your couch. Your family was too much work. Perhaps that’s why you had moved. You shut your eyes, the magazine still in your hands, falling asleep.

You got up with a start, when your phone dinged. Your phone was on ring, in case of a sudden case, and it was duty called. There were three texts, with escalating impatience from Barba, who needed your assistance on a case SVU caught. 

You got ready quickly in a hurry, hurriedly throwing your things together, and you briefly glanced at the crumpled magazine on your couch, before stuffing it in your briefcase. What was the harm of taking this to work with you? Maybe you would actually catch a break to read it. 

You sat down after going through about a thousand phone logs. Barba had subpoenaed one specific phone record, only end up buried under about a million binders to go through. You sighed, looking up from your work to see Barba doing the same. “I think I’m going to take my lunch.” You rose, going to your office. You collapsed in your chair, slinking against the cushiony back. You shut your eyes, trying to resist the urge to rub your burning eyes. You still hadn’t kicked the habit of touching your eyes, even after losing a couple of dozen contacts that way. You reached into your bag, looking for your lunch, when you came across the magazine. You slapped it on your desk, skimming over the cover, as you pulled out your lunch. Bachelors’ of the Month for New York?

You snorted. Your sister gave you this as a joke. Typical. Even though you told her and your family that you didn’t want to get married on their terms, she still wanted you to be married to someone. Or rather anyone. You never had time for a serious relationship. You were always too busy or not interested. Your work had become your spouse in a way. You looked at the pile of phone logs. You felt a headache coming on. A very needy one at that. 

Deciding to take a break for the sake of your sanity, you started digging into your lunch, finishing it relatively quickly. You finally sighed at the magazine, knowing if you didn’t at least look at it, your sister would never let you hear the end of it. You flipped through the pages, through the various articles. They had tips for weight loss and for a healthy relationship. These articles were always so vapid and materialistic. Each one had a hidden agenda, making women feel inadequate by showing them pictures of photoshopped models while pushing products onto people. You flipped the page to the bachelor of month section. Or in this case, people onto people.

You snorted at these men’s descriptions and their plastered on smiles. Who were these men and how did they get on this list? According to the magazine, someone submitted them and people upvoted them. You turned the page to number 7, when you had to cover your mouth, and you dropped the magazine. 

No. It couldn’t be. You re-checked the name, and you couldn’t hold back your laughter. You read the description a few times, and you still could barely hold your laughter back. You took the magazine, bringing it out.

“Hey, Barba.” You mentally kicked yourself. You still couldn’t get used to calling him Rafael. He didn’t even bother to look up from his work, still scribbling away in his notes, while looking through files. “Have you ever been featured in a magazine?” He looked up, a look crossed between confusion and annoyance. He did not like people to waste his time.

“No, I don’t believe I ever hit my head and suddenly felt the urge to talk to some intern about my favorite colors.” Oh, really?

“Then how do you explain this?” You held up the magazine, flipping to the page he was featured on. “‘Rafael Barba, an up and comer in the field of law. The Manhattan ADA known for his no nonsense attitude and sarcastic remarks. Don’t worry ladies, he’s not married to anyone, besides his work.’” You read, trying to keep your tone as even as possible, but a giggle or two crept into your throat. He immediately rose, trying to take the magazine from your hands. There wasn’t a chance in hell he was prying this from your hands until you finished reading. “‘With his designer duds and snappy one liners, you’ll want to do time with this sexy ADA.’” He wrenched the magazine from your fingers, as your hands flew to your now hurting sides, as you practically rolled over in laughter. “Oh my god, who wrote this and where can I shake their hand?”

“Why were they allowed to print this without my consent?” He groaned, and you explained, while fighting back fits of giggles, that he was voted on there by their readers.

“Oh come on, the worst that can happen is that you’ll have some people asking you on dates.” You waved it off, though the thought let you with an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you simply ignored it.

He frowned, throwing the magazine on his desk. He turned to you, holding a finger to your still grinning face. “Tell no one about this.”

“As long as you tell me some of your ‘snappy one-liners.’” You snorted, shaking your head, spotting his red ears, and trying to hold back your laughter. You rolled your eyes, and conceded to his request. “Consider my lips sealed, but on that note I have to call my sister and thank her.”


End file.
